The Red Wire of Destiny
by EAD13
Summary: Ever since the day that little girl saved his life, he's been connected to her. Twelve years later, he'll finally get his chance to meet her again. Even if he's the only one that can look past her status as outcast, and even though he's not viewed much more favorably than she is, he'll do everything he can to erase the pain in her eyes.


**Age: 14**

Now he'd done it. His father was watching him like a hawk as he trained, never letting his wayward son repeat his mistake of finding outcasts to talk to and disgrace himself. Even now, as Teb aimed his shot, he could feel the dull pain on is cheek where his father had struck him out of anger two days ago. He found the whole thing horribly unfair, not that he'd express that sentiment aloud. That never got him anything but a violent cuff to the head.

He released the bowstring, and his shot bit into the target several inches to the left of its intended mark. His father cursed behind him, and began the familiar routine of complaining about his son's deficiencies. Honestly, he was getting so accustomed to it that it meant very little at this point. He simply notched another arrow to try again. He could do better than this, he knew that, but he was just so distracted.

It was the little outcast girl that had helped him two days ago. No, she didn't just help him, she'd saved his life, young as she was. By the look of her, she'd perhaps seen only five or six winters. Despite that, she'd moved fearlessly among the machines that had him trapped where he'd fallen from the cliff, avoiding their line of sight and predicting their paths as if she could see exactly where they were focused. Her guardian had worn a look of tight-lipped anger mixed with terror as she no doubt disobeyed his order to stay put, but that didn't seem to faze her. She simply snuck over to him, and with a finger to her lips to encourage his silence, led him out of harm's way.

Of course he'd thanked her. How could he not thank someone who had rescued him from certain death, outcast or not? Yet speaking to her didn't sit well with her guardian, nor did it sit well with his own father, who had finally showed up once the danger was past. He tried to explain what had happened. His father had simply hit him loud enough to reverberate in the walls of the valley. In the last look he'd gotten of that little girl as he was marched away, she was peering around her guardian who had stepped in front of her protectively, looking hurt and confused. How could she not? She didn't deserve any of the hurtful things said about her. Seriously, what could a child have done to deserve being outcast anyway?

The next arrow bit too far to the right as he overcompensated. His father made more disparaging remarks, as if that were going to inspire better work. How he wished he could talk back, but that only ever made things worse. Instead, he simply notched another arrow in silence and lined it up.

Perhaps the girl's banishment had something to do with the metal chip she wore at her right temple? It was clearly a relic from the forbidden Metal World, crafted by the Old Ones. Surprising she had it, seeing as her guardian had come across as a very law and order sort of man. Taboo or not, he had to wonder if her uncanny abilities weren't linked to that little device she kept tapping. Machines were metal too, so it wasn't farfetched to think it could be tied to that gadget. How had this child come to possess such a thing?

Another shot, another miss. He was convinced his father was going to come and rip the bow from his hands at this point. He had to quiet his thoughts, or he would never hit the target!

In that moment, his thoughts crystalized into a decision: a gift for the little girl. She probably had only the things her guardian could make. He certainly couldn't offer anything in the way of hunted creatures, not the way his shot was always veering askew, but perhaps he could craft something. He wasn't sure how he'd get it to her; even if his father eased off after a while, he had no idea where she lived or where her usual hunting grounds were located. That didn't matter. He had to show his poor, devastated savior that he didn't care what she was labeled.

Finally, his arrow found its mark.

**Age: 18**

The Proving had started off well-enough. Teb had been able to follow the proctor without being left behind, scrambling over the uneven terrain alongside his peers. When they came to the hunt, he had admittedly bobbled several of his shots. The pressure was just so high, and he was cracking under it despite his best efforts. Most of his peers had swiftly taken down their Grazers, pried the trophies from their remains, and moved on to the next part. Only when most of his companions were gone did he find himself able to focus and bring down one of the stragglers. That was okay. He had no intention of winning. He didn't have unrealistic expectations.

Any hopes he had of completing his Proving withered away when he followed the trail and came face-to-face with a sheer rock wall. Brave trails, the vertical paths the Nora created to scale the rock formations prevalent in their territory, were so named because only those designated as Braves had the skills needed to tackle them. He'd known this would be a part of the trial. He'd trained with man-made fixtures, hauling his lithe body up with ropes and wooden knobs. He was by no means the fittest of his peers, but a scrawny frame was easier to maneuver.

The problem here was a lack of man-made fixtures.

The day he'd taken a tumble and nearly gotten himself killed, he'd misjudged the validity of a handhold in the rock formation. The fall had definitely hurt, leaving him with several bruised ribs (and All-Mother be praised that was all, thanks to the fact that he'd bounced on a few ledges on his way down), but the real problem had been that he'd fallen right into a herd of machines. After that day, it was never the same. He'd used to scramble about with a boyish grin as if it were the most natural thing, but since that incident, he'd begun second-guessing every move. If it wasn't a clearly-marked part of a Brave Trail, he hesitated, abandoning the path and searching for a different means. He'd been lucky that his father hadn't noticed his hang-ups, being content that he was working on his climbing no matter how he chose to go about it.

Nothing was going to protect him from his father now. He stared up at the wall, not knowing where to begin, and suddenly feeling very afraid. Afraid of falling again. Afraid of the disappointment he would be. Which was worse? In desperation, he grabbed a handhold and began to attempt to tackle he wall. He only made it a few feet before panic took him. He couldn't see his next handhold. Teb remained frozen in his spot for some time, debating his next course of action. He could push himself past what he knew he could do and get himself killed, or he could accept his limitations and find something else he was better at. The latter would clearly be more beneficial for him, but also for his tribe. His father would curse him as never before, maybe even disown him. His peers would mock him endlessly for his failure. Still, there had to be a way he could contribute more meaningfully than if he went ahead with this whole Brave thing and ended up a corpse on the funeral pyre.

Slowly, he eased his way back down until his feet met the earth once more. But he'd dedicated so much time to training as a Brave. What else could he possibly do? He wracked his brain to think of any other pastime he had. The only thing he could think of was the outfits he made for the little girl who'd saved him. As he'd promised four years ago, he'd continued to craft her something pretty, something that made her feel like she was not forgotten. He actually had no idea if she was receiving his offerings, or even if they fit her properly, but he had kept making them all the same, even factoring in the growth he projected the girl would have made. Stitching was a job for old women, though. As if failing to pass his Proving wouldn't be bad enough, to take on a job like that…

Teb hung his head. There weren't many options available to him at this point. A Stitcher he would be then, but if he was going to go ahead and practice the trade, he was going to be the best at it. Perhaps if he did the best work anyone had seen, they wouldn't be too harsh with him. Also, the girl that saved him would be wearing nothing but the best despite her outcast status, the same things anyone inside the village would own. Until he found a new source of strength, that would be all he could cling to, the handhold on the rock wall of his life.

**Age: 25**

The winter wind howled outside the hut where he now lived and worked. Teb appreciated the shelter the small wooden building provided, especially since it meant no longer having to live with his father. Their relationship since his failed Proving was…tenuous at best. In a sense, his father must have anticipated the failure coming, seeing as the initial revelation hadn't been quite as explosive as he'd imagined. It still wasn't pleasant. Maybe his father had been the one to suggest he take up residence in the last Stitcher's workshop just to get his sorry excuse of a son out of his hut. All the better for him. It was nice being able to work in peace without having to worry about some barbed comment about his occupation.

Like with so many things, Teb found the whole situation stupid. Warriors needed their armor fixed nearly constantly thanks to frequent run-ins with the machines that prowled the area. Why was it so bad that instead of fighting things, he was fixing things so people didn't get killed? They needed him! But no, it was a waste of a young man to make him fix armor. Never mind the fact that his fingers were far more nimble than the older Stitchers the tribe had had, his eye sharper, his curious mind more inventive. The fact was, they could poke fun at him all they wanted, but still they came to buy what he was selling. What a shame those fools couldn't figure that out and make his life a little bit easier.

He looked down and realized he'd stopped sewing as his mind wandered. Shaking his head with a sigh, he resumed his action. He wasn't all that thrilled that Bast was his current customer, but a job was a job. Any defect he left in the armor would reflect poorly on himself, thus overpowering any satisfaction it would give him to make that jerk suffer. Bast not only had the nerve to ridicule him despite being eight years his junior, but Teb had heard him bragging to his cohorts on more than one occasion about nailing the little outcast girl in the forehead with a rock and making her bleed. Marking her for what she was, he'd said. How he'd seethed in rage upon hearing that! Not that anything could be done to put him in his place. Bast was a natural fighter, one heavily favored by the people of the tribe to win the next Proving, and Teb was…definitely not. Still, perhaps if he left just a little something in the armor to poke him, just enough to be annoying…

There was a sudden knock on his door, and he instantly worried that it would be Bast, come to demand his finished armor a week early. That just seemed like something that brat would do… "Come in," Teb called, not bothering to put down his work. He regretted his choice as soon as the door creaked open, revealing the bundled-up form of Matriarch Teersa.

"It seems that winter has arrived in full force," she observed as she shut the door behind her.

"Matriarch! I am so sorry for my rudeness!" Teb scrambled to set aside his needle and thread without ripping out the work he'd started, then rose to address the respected woman before him.

"There is no reason to apologize. It is I who is interrupting your work. You must have your hands full with requests for next autumn's Proving."

"Yes, Matriarch. They all wish to have enough time to break in their armor."

"As I suspected. But I was wondering, dear boy, if you would have enough time for another commission before the autumn rolls around? You wouldn't have to hurry, as there would be no need for the owner to break it in before the day of the Proving. It would merely be something for you to work on between jobs. That is why I am here with this request so early."

This piqued Teb's interest. He raised an eyebrow. "And who would this armor be for, Matriarch?"

Teersa smiled warmly. "A friend of yours, one you haven't seen in many, many years."

Now that was strange. Last time Teb had checked, he really didn't have any friends. He got along well enough with the Stitchers who had taught him their craft, but they were more mentors than friends. People his own age…not so much. When he frowned in concentration, trying to figure out the identity of this mystery friend, Teersa actually laughed. "Shouldn't it be obvious? You've been sending her items for years."

Finally, realization dawned on him. "The girl that saved me? You knew that I…?"

"Oh yes. I may have helped them find your offerings, without actually speaking to them, of course. And because I know of your kind heart, I am confident you will wish to take this commission."

"You're not…mad?" he ventured timidly, barely raising his eyes to meet the old woman's. Leaving items for outcasts wasn't specifically forbidden in the laws, but still…

"On the contrary, I thank you to seeing to her needs. Her guardian has many skills, but Stitching is not one of his greatest! And if my guess is correct, she will soon be rejoining the tribe after the next Proving. She ought to be properly equipped."

His heart skipped a beat at that news. "She'll be allowed to compete?"

Teersa laughed again. "So full of questions. Yes, though it hasn't happened before, law does state that an outcast child may compete in a Proving and earn their place back into the tribe. She will no doubt participate, and no doubt pass. Life outside the tribe is difficult, and she's conquered everything thrown at her."

"Without proper armor. All-Mother, I never thought to make her ARMOR. She's probably been fighting all kinds of machines in just a tunic!" Teb all but threw Bast's chest piece to the ground. Forget that bully, his savior was finally going to get her chance to be accepted, and he was going to make sure she would be well prepared! "I'll certainly make her something to help her in the Proving, you can count on me!"

"Thank you, Teb. Take your time with it, there is no rush." Matriarch Teersa paused thoughtfully. "Do you even know her name?"

Teb shook his head vigorously. "I think her guardian called it out that day, but I was too shook up to remember."

"Her name is Aloy. The All-Mother blessed it when it was proclaimed. Don't forget it. She will need a friendly face when she arrives here for the Proving, and I fear there will be few."

Teb nodded slowly in agreement. The Nora were cruel to those shunned. Sometimes they deserved it, those that stole or murdered. Sometimes it all seemed unwarranted, like those who peeked into Metal World ruins out of curiosity. Even when their sentence was up, things were never the same for them. This girl, Aloy, had, to his understanding, never been a part of the tribe for whatever reason. She would have it the hardest of all. She would know nothing of their village or the people within. She would need him, and he would be there to help her. He would finally be able to protect her the way she had protected him.

"She will have me, Matriarch. I swear it."

**Age: 26**

He had been scanning the crowds all day. The Proving ceremony was tonight, and Matriarch Teersa had been extremely certain that Aloy would come. Still, the longer he stood outside his shop, armor hung with care on the railing beside him, the more he doubted he would recognize her if she came. Matriarch Teersa had told him she would be directing Aloy to him, but still…

Then, through the crowd of dancers down the slope, a lone woman broke away and began to climb the hill. He could feel his eyes widen in recognition. He simply knew. True, the woman approaching had grown beyond his wildest expectations into a warrior beauty, such a striking contrast to the admittedly homely little girl she had been with chubby cheeks and wild hair. How could he be sure he wasn't imagining things? Maybe it was the locks of flaming red hair, braided and hanging down past her shoulder that were the same color as the waif in his memories. Maybe it was the olive green eyes that scanned the people surrounding her with the same attention as she had the watchers back then. It was definitely the way she looked lost and out of place, confused by her own situation and the reason for it. She was here, after years of waiting.

"Aloy! That is you, isn't it?" he found himself calling. She looked around in confusion at the sound of her own name in such a foreign place, until finally her eyes rested on him. "It is Aloy, isn't it? I'm remembering your name correctly?" Suddenly, under her full scrutiny, he found himself nervous. Perhaps this vision before him was not what he had thought.

"It is," she assured, though she looked thoroughly perplexed. "But I don't know you."

Of course not. Why would she remember him, just a small moment of time in the course of her life? The only reason he remembered her was because that day had changed the trajectory of his own life. He doubted it was the same for her as a mere six-year-old girl. "My name is Teb. I'm the boy you rescued all those years ago from the machines."

Slowly, recognition dawned on her. "I do remember you."

"As you can see," he continued hurriedly, before he could lose his nerve, "I never became much of a hunter. I'm a Stitcher now. In fact, I made you this." Before she could question, he reached over and grabbed the armor next to him. He held it out to the confused warrior.

Aloy furrowed her brows as she studied the reinforced leather. "What will it cost?"

"Cost?" Teb gaped in shock. He shouldn't be surprised; Aloy must expect after the way she'd grown up that no one would do something nice for her free of charge. "Nothing, of course! Consider it a token of my gratitude for what you did for me. Now, you should try it on and make sure I don't need to make any alterations to it. I want to be sure it fits you perfectly for the Proving tomorrow."

Aloy finally took the armor from him, running her fingers along the thick furs and beaded designs appreciatively. "Thanks, Teb. I've…never had anything like this." It hurt, knowing how true that statement was. The other things he'd made her in the past were certainly nicer than anything she would have had in the wilds, but it was still a far cry from the quality of clothing she could have had growing up in the village. He had been just starting, his work hadn't been as good. He certainly hadn't thought to make her armor rather than simple clothes.

The hurt was eased when she looked up again. For the first time, he saw a hint of happiness in her eyes. He'd done this. He swore he'd continue to do this if he could earn that same expression again. He wouldn't be able to shield her from the insults she was bound to receive from the others in the village, but hopefully the armor, along with protecting her physically, could protect her emotionally as she remembered she had at least one person in her corner.

Whether she knew it or not, he had been for years.


End file.
